


Kiss You, Lips

by sallyamongpoison



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dorian's silk undies, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-12
Updated: 2015-10-12
Packaged: 2018-04-26 02:13:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4986061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sallyamongpoison/pseuds/sallyamongpoison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which there are certain...needs that must be met.</p>
<p>I was given the prompts: Basorexia - An overwhelming desire to kiss, Cheiloproclitic - Being attracted to someones lips</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kiss You, Lips

It’s mostly all porn, so under the cut it goes!

The first time he’d noticed wasn’t the first time they met. Cullen had been far too annoyed to notice anything beyond the fact that Dorian was a mage and that he was making himself exceedingly comfortable at Haven without any thought to what people might think. He was brash and overconfident, and words fell from his mouth like water over falls and it had rubbed Cullen every which way but right. The man made his head ache.

The first time he’d noticed was still in Haven. They were at the War Table in that little Chantry room and Dorian had been talking. Maker, he was always talking. Cullen had turned, intent to mostly listen, but he couldn’t quite keep himself from watching how the mage held himself when he spoke. He was so…fluid. He spoke with his hands: grand gestures and expressions that didn’t bother to hide his meaning. After working for so long with Leliana and Josephine, that was almost a novelty. Dorian was passionate, spoke with heart and surety, and Cullen found himself leaning in whenever he spoke. It was a bit like magic.

He’d noticed again when they were at the camp after Haven had been destroyed. Arguments, blaming, were being flung right and left about what to do should Lavellan not wake up. The elf had come through the Void itself, it seemed, to land at the camp nearly comatose and frozen. Cullen had shouted, been angry, and turned his face away when they couldn’t come to an agreement. He hated that feeling of panic that was washing over him. It felt like they were a misstep away from death, and the only person capable of doing anything about it could have been very nearly dead. Then there was Dorian.

The mage sat beside Roderick, the cleric who’d been in Cullen’s face from the moment they’d stepped foot in Haven, and he spoke softly to him. Cullen had never expected such a thing from Dorian. He’d always seen him moving and casting spells, speaking with flourishes and the power of his own convictions behind his word, but there was looking very quiet and concerned. It made something in Cullen’s blood burn in ways he couldn’t quite remember from a brief moment in the Kinloch Circle. It was brief, a flash of fire against all the ice and snow, but for a moment the image of them both sharing a heated kiss in front of the fire was all he could see. The arguments were forgotten then, and his cheeks were pink for the thought of it. Maker help him.

At Skyhold, they’d managed to strike up some kind of friendship. Dorian had sought him out and smiled at him like for a brief moment he and Cullen were the only two people in the world. They could have been, too, for all Culled cared. Those grey eyes sparkled, stars behind a storm, and Cullen felt wrapped up in it. Lips he didn’t know the feel or taste of pressed against his own in thoughts he couldn’t quell. They chatted, drank wine, and Cullen’s blood burned for just the briefest moment to sate his compulsion to kiss the obnoxiously beautiful man.

“Your move.”

Nothing.

“Cullen?” Dorian’s voice was firm but gentle and the Commander’s attention snapped up from where it might have seemed like he was studying over the mage’s shoulder, “it’s your move.”

“Of course it is,” he managed after a long moment, tongue wetting his lips, “forgive me.”

The Tevinter smirked, “Whatever could be taking your mind away from our game, hm?” he asked, “surely I’m not boring you.”

It was easy to fall into that banter. “You’re not complaining. It gives you the chance to cheat if I’m not paying attention,” Cullen teased, “like I didn’t notice you trying to palm that knight.”

“Excuse you, Commander, but my sleight of hand is always on point,” Dorian teased back, “but I’m sure that archway behind us is far more interesting.”

Maker, but he wanted to kiss that smug look right off that handsome face. It was insufferable, and Cullen found himself suffering whenever he had a moment to breathe. Well, whenever he had a moment to breathe that Dorian didn’t take it upon himself to ‘get him out a bit’ for food or a game or just a quick walk around the ramparts so the mage could critique his soldiers. It was maddening. Every encounter was a test of nerves, an exercise in Cullen’s resolve, and if he didn’t know any better he might have thought Dorian was baiting him.

The way the mage looked at him was…there were no words. Dorian had a bad habit of studying his face, his mouth, to the point that Cullen couldn’t help the blush that spread down his neck and to his chest. It seemed that Dorian was interested his his lips, unless he was completely out of line with that thought. He’d caught the man staring more than once and smiling, perhaps at the scar that cut his upper lip in what most people had promised was a ‘ruggedly handsome’ kind of way. The axe to the face certainly didn’t feel rugged or handsome, but it had healed well enough. He had healed well enough.

“We can play in my room!” Dorian shouted, wincing a bit for how his voice bounced off the stone wall. He had to yell, though, for the deafening hiss of torrential rain and it poured down over Skyhold. Normally the played in the garden, but the wind and water had nearly washed everything out and left Dorian’s robes completely soaked. It was cold, their breath came out in little puffy wisps, and it only drew attention to how the man looked. Cullen could see the goosebumps on the mage’s exposed skin and how the cold water made coal black waves fall from their normal style. He was…beautiful. “Come on, it’ll be a damn sight warmer than your bloody office!” he shouted again, and reached out to grab Cullen’s wrist to tug him toward one of the doors.

Inside was much warmer than out, though it smelled less like fresh rain and more like smoke from all the fires. Still, it could have been worse. Dorian’s rooms were small and cluttered with everything from pillows and cushions to artifacts, books, and trinkets. It was slightly strange, for how put together Dorian always seemed, but it was cozy. A fire was lit in the fireplace and it was delightfully intimate. More intimate than anywhere else in Skyhold, that was for sure.

Once they were inside, however, the chess game was long forgotten. It was under the guise of changing to get warm: Dorian out of his robes and Cullen out of his armor. They huddled by the fire with cold hands extended, but their attention wasn’t on the flame. Dorian was studying his face, his lips, and Cullen couldn’t stop looking at the expanse of caramel skin that still had water clinging to it. He’d dreamed, many a night with his cock in hand, of that skin under his lips. Cullen’s mouth was practically watering to taste him.

It only took a moment before they were wrapped around each other, skin on skin, and Cullen kissed Dorian like he’d never kissed another person in his life. It felt like his first drink of water after days in the desert or a breath of air after drowning. He took Dorian in, drank him down, and pulled him close until they collapsed on the bed. It had a ridiculous number of pillows and cushions and felt like something out of a fairy story. It was nice, but nowhere near as perfect as how the other man tasted.

Hands pushed at whatever clothes were left, and Cullen ducked his head to press sucking kisses against Dorian’s throat. He tasted like sweet and salt and spice and it was better than even Cullen could have conjured in his mind. It had been weeks, months even, that he’d been thinking about this. Dorian did not disappoint. He left red welts down along the mage’s throat and to his chest. Cullen could, and would, kiss and taste every inch of him that he could. He needed it.

“ _Maker_ , your mouth is perfection,” Dorian groaned as he tunneled his fingers in blond curls. He tugged, which only made Cullen groan as he kissed his way down. That was unexpected, but not at all bad.

Cullen’s mouth moved lower, fingers pulling at the…were those silk? Silk smalls. Of course the Tevinter fucking mage would have silk smalls. They were soft against his fingers, and as Cullen moved lower he pressed kisses all along the waistband. This had been all he wanted. Just to taste and keep tasting and kissing and to never stop. He mouthed over the silk, which was starting to tent for Dorian’s growing erection, and pressed soft kisses to the damp spot that was spreading. He couldn’t stop, wouldn’t stop, and just wanted to taste as much as he could.

Under him, Dorian squirmed and lifted his hips as Cullen pulled those smalls down and started to press kisses to the newly revealed skin. “Cullen,” he prompted, fingers back in Cullen’s hair, and he leaned up a little. Grey eyes were watching the Commander’s face, his mouth, as Cullen brushed his lips along hip bones and the dark, coarse hair that trailed down from Dorian’s navel to where his cock was straining upward.

Lips, warm and perfectly formed, moved along Dorian’s cock. The mage whined, tossed his head to the side, and tried to buck his hips upward in what Cullen knew was supposed to be encouragement. Of course it was. He looked up, locked amber eyes with grey, and smiled as he pressed kiss after kiss along the Dorian’s length. The mage never looked away, kept watching, and only closed his eyes for a moment when Cullen wrapped his lips around him.

“Yes,” Dorian hissed, the fingers in Cullen’s hair tightening, “fuck, Cullen, _yes_.”

He smiled around Dorian’s length, lips stretched a bit, and set a good pace. His tongue laved up and over that soft skin, taking in the taste, and Cullen gripped at the mage’s hips to keep him still. Every time he looked up Dorian was looking down at him, eyes dark with lust, and with every bob of Cullen’s head and swirl of his tongue another string of swears in a language the Commander didn’t know came out. That had to mean he was doing well. Knowing as much made sounds of his bubble up, and when Dorian looked back down at him again Cullen felt a distinct throb between his own legs.

This was everything and nothing like the thoughts he had. Cullen always waited until the dead of night, when Skyhold was asleep and his work was done, to curl up in his bed and get himself off to the thought of his lips pressed against Dorian. It didn’t matter where. This, though, with the taste and the feel and the way Dorian moved was everything Cullen could have ever wanted. He groaned, Dorian’s length pushed down his throat, and moved faster. Cullen wanted the mage to come. He wanted to feel it and taste it and kiss his way up Dorian’s body while he lay there completely boneless.

Those eyes were still on him. “Your mouth, Maker fuck, your mouth was made for this,” Dorian whimpered, “I should have done this weeks ago.”

Good to know.

When Dorian came, it was gift. Cullen drank him down, sucked hard and fast until the mage was squirming under him. He wanted to keep going, work until Dorian was hard and oversensitive so he could make him come again, but he pulled back and started to kiss his way back up. Dorian’s skin was slick and sweaty, chest heaving, and Cullen dipped his tongue out to taste as he kissed back up and along where he’d left those lovebites before.

They kissed again, long and sweet, and Dorian smirked before he flicked his tongue out to taste Cullen’s scar. It was a strange sensation, but one Cullen found he didn’t mind. Their mouths crashed together, heat building between them again, and Dorian growled into Cullen’s mouth. Between the rain and his orgasn the man looked a bit wrecked but it seemed like that wasn’t about to stop him.

“I’ve been waiting to do that for…”

“Too long,” Dorian supplied the rest for him, and Cullen chuckled before he leaned in to rest his forehead against the mage’s.

A breath, then two, and they were kissing again. It was going to be a long, eventful night. 


End file.
